


a map with your name for a capital

by kenopsia (indie)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Embarrassing adolescent stories, Frottage, M/M, Mentions of offscreen recreational smoking, Midnight Confessions, and finding someone to share those with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia
Summary: Here is a map with a your name for a capital,Richard Siken.“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” Ronan asks, on the best kind of night. Ronan is in LA for the foreseeable future, tapping away on his laptop when Lovett wakes up, and kicking around town making dinner plans when Lovett gets off, or sitting by the pool with a book, or taking a call in the office. Tonight, they’re having an evening in: Lovett stoned and warm and both of them spread across their California King.“There is nothing that makes me tingle more than that sentence,” Lovett says. “Can’t think of a thing.”





	a map with your name for a capital

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone who helped me troubleshoot what lovett's embarrassing thing would be, and to lauren who I stole something from. 
> 
> title from the poem Saying Your Names, by Richard Siken  
_I’m saying your name_  
in the grocery store, I’m saying your name on  
the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal  
covered with frost, your name like a music that’s  
been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud,  
a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails  
in wind and the slap of waves on the hull  
of a boat that’s sinking to the sound of mermaids  
singing songs of love, and the tug of a simple  
profound sadness when it sounds so far away.  
Here is a map with a your name for a capital,  
here is an arrow to prove a point: we laugh  
and it pits the world against us, we laugh,  
and we’ve got nothing left to lose, and our hearts  
turn red, and the river rises like a barn on fire.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” Ronan asks, on the best kind of night. Ronan is in LA for the foreseeable future, tapping away on his laptop when Lovett wakes up, and kicking around town making dinner plans when Lovett gets off, or sitting by the pool with a book, or taking a call in the office. Tonight, they’re having an evening in: Lovett stoned and warm and both of them spread across their California King. 

“There is nothing that makes me tingle more than that sentence,” Lovett says. “Can’t think of a thing.” 

“You dork,” Ronan says. With Ronan on his back, Lovett’s head is pillowed on his stomach. He can feel every rumble of Ronan’s body when he speaks. 

“Tell meeeee,” Lovett draws out, now that the chum is in the water. There are  _ humiliating details about Ronan and he does not know about them yet.  _ The world is unbearable. 

“Don’t laugh,” Ronan warns. 

Lovett crosses his heart, but then considers. “If I laugh — on accident — I want you to know that I love you very much. It will be a loving laugh.” 

Ronan wiggles beneath him. Lovett’s had an edible and a half, but Ronan is sober. “Okay, okay, you monster. So like. It’s a sex thing.”

“Excellent.” Lovett rubs his hands together to channel some of his excitement. He presses his friction warmed palm against Ronan’s face and Ronan makes a joking nip at his hands. 

“Okay stop being a weirdo or I’m going to put this in the box,” Ronan says. Lovett feels himself stiffen, and puts his finger against his lips to signal that he will be the  _ spirit  _ of decorum. 

“Okay so I think I scarred myself for life when I was a boy about, like. Fisting.”

_ Holy shit,  _ Lovett thinks with salacious glee. This is already the best day of his life. He manfully refrains from saying anything from his spring loaded ridiculous reflex and instead feigns polite interest. “Oh?” he says.

“Yeah, like, I saw this video and immediately wanted to die.” Ronan says, making a vague hand gesture. Lovett moves so that he’s positioned along the length of Ronan. “Because I thought it was something else. I definitely saw fisting porn way too early.”

“ _ How  _ though,” Lovett asks. 

“Because I thought it would be something else,” Ronan says. Lovett leans over to nuzzle at the warm join of his neck, kissing him tenderly under the beveled edge of his jaw. 

“Because I used to do this other thing,” Ronan expounds, which  _ isn’t  _ and explanation and should be a  _ crime,  _ but he also brings his hands to Lovett’s hair to comb through Lovett’s hair. 

“Used to do this other thing,” Lovett repeats, to make it clear to Ronan how very little it illuminates. 

“Yep,” he says, the word snapping like a closed door. 

“Thank you, boyfriend, for this conversation.” 

“Shut up,” Ronan says. Ronan drags one hand down Lovett’s torso, and lets his hand pause at the band of his sweats. 

“Distraction by dick is usually a good tactic, but I have to know what you thought fisting was.”

“It was dumb. I regret this conversation.” 

“I love you,” Lovett says, climbing on top of him. Ronan looks up at him like — dazzled, dazzled is the best word Lovett has for it, like somehow, after getting to know all of Lovett, he still feels lucky to have him in close proximity. It’s more than Lovett deserves. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I want to, I just feel — weird and silly about it.”

“Weird and silly, that’s the title of our sex tape,” Lovett jokes. “Would it help if you told me while I sucked you off? I could take my time.” 

“No, just. Close your eyes.”

Lovett listens to his voice in the dark, feels the solid shape of him between his thighs, and his moving chest under his palm. “When I was first starting to jerk off — I used to like...” 

Ronan pauses, and Lovett tries to project a face that is patient and not  _ dying to know.  _ Ronan touches Lovett, low on the stomach, knuckles in about half an inch. It’s a nothing of a sensation, except that Ronan’s hands are on him. 

“Is this supposed to hurt?” Lovett asks him. 

“Not exactly,” Ronan says. He rolls his hand, so that his knuckles press at a different angle.

“Oh,” Lovett says. “Like — bladder?” 

“Yeah, Lovett,” Ronan says, and Lovett doesn’t have to open his eyes to know Ronan is rolling his. “Like, bladder.”

“Can I open my eyes now?” 

“Nope,” Ronan says, cheerfully, and wrangles Lovett down and onto the bed, positioning himself until he’s spooned up on the inside curve and wouldn’t know better, either way. “Now you can.” 

Lovett touches the back of Ronan’s nose with his neck, breathing in deeply. “You’ve never asked for me to… I don’t know. Do anything with that. Did it become a thing as an adult?”

“No. Not like — I don’t want to pee on anyone, I don’t think. Or to be — I don’t want you to do that either. But anyways, the point of that story is, I was fifteen and looking for maybe — I kept trying to google things that would help me plausibly  _ accidentally stumble  _ onto gay porn, like football stuff, and then one day I was like. Oh, I do fisting, but then of course, what I was doing to myself was certainly  _ not that. _ ”

Lovett is going to circle back, because it came up for some reason, and that reason was probably that Lovett’s head was right on Ronan’s stomach, but for now, he thinks of some kind of reciprocity. 

“Do you want me to tell you about an embarassing sex adventure of my childhood?” Lovett asks, and he barely gets to the end of the sentence before Ronan says  _ yesplease.  _

When Lovett was a freshman in college, he’d come to terms with being a Gay Youth. He hadn’t  _ done  _ anything about it that year, but he’d met Spencer and for the first time, he’d made a friend and he’d been himself from the start. His second year in college, he’d been ready to do something about it, to have an identity of both thought and action, but he’d also had a roommate who always seemed to be exactly where he left him, at his desk. It had not been prime real estate for sexual experimentation. 

“I gave a blowjob in college,” Lovett says, pausing. 

Ronan snorts. “Wow, babe, this story has a lot of detail.” 

“Only lies have detail,” Lovett says, and then starts over. “I had a crush on a boy in college. His name was Justin and we had an earth science lab together, and we both had roommates. He actually — like, I knew he was into me from the get go, because he introduced himself,  _ I’m gay  _ and then backtracked to  _ I meant to say I’m Justin! but like, the other thing is true, too!  _ The point being, I had motive and means but  _ opportunity  _ to experiment with Justin didn’t present itself until this time we had to do a make-up of this lab, because I’d had a funeral and he’d had an asthma attack on the day of the lab, and because there wasn’t any real danger and because he was in student government, we had keys to the room. It wasn’t actually even a lab, we just had to watch this movie together and answer a lot of questions about underwater rock formation and plate tectonics and underwater volcano activity.”

“I regret fishing for this,” Ronan grouses, but in the groaning-indulgent way Lovett likes best, and Lovett smiles against the back of his neck. 

“ _ Anyways,  _ the punchline of this story is that I gave him a blowjob and after a false start, it started going really well. You know how it feels when it’s really obvious that someone is into whatever you’re doing, and it’s feeding into itself, and all the endorphins are making the world kind of butter-colored?” 

“Mmhm,” Ronan says. Lovett’s bottom arm is folded under his head, but his top arm had been idly looped around Ronan’s waist. Lovett moves that arm to pet down Ronan’s stomach, fingertips making small, soft circles on the warm skin above his pelvis. “Don’t tell me that’s it. That’s not the punchline.” 

“No, it’s not.” Lovett pauses, thinks of young Ronan, shocked by a fisting video when he was was first starting to think about sex, thinks of the scientiftic method poster near the podium. He’s an adult now, warm and safe with the love of his life. “It went really well until he came in my eyes and I panicked and used the eyewash station to deal with it.”

“Oh man,” Ronan laughs. 

“That’s — improper use of equipment,” Ronan says, body shaking with amusement. 

Lovett jostles him. “That’s enough,” he says. Ronan moves, nestling in close and wedging one knee between Lovett’s legs. 

“I thought that was a really good story, babe,” Ronan says. He’s using a sultry voice, probably to be funny, but Lovett feels himself react, anyway. Even the joking promise in his voice curls around Lovett’s dick as firmly as a grasp. 

Lovett isn’t done, wants to know how and under what circumstances and if Ronan still likes some pressure on his bladder when having sex, but for now, he reaches for him, holds him soft and warm, kisses his mouth and his throat. 

“Gorgeous, you’re gorgeous and I love when you like my stories,” he says, between kisses. He rolls his hips against Ronan’s, which is Ronan’s favorite kind of foreplay, and with Lovett still gently high, he’d happily grind against his boyfriend all night. 

Time slurs, which is kind of it: Lovett would hate to miss anything, the long angle of Ronan’s neck, the feather-fine tickle of Ronan’s hair against Lovett’s face, the way Ronan’s torso ripples when Lovett nudges a closed fist between their bellies. “Oh,” Ronan breathes, tipping his head back. “I didn’t tell you that so you would — ” Ronan’s voice is a stilted rasp. 

Lovett uses one elbow to get some leverage, looking down at Ronan’s face. “Good or bad?”

“Good,  _ good _ ,” he says, and Lovett settles himself firmly against him. 


End file.
